


Viva Voce

by zetuslapetus



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, unbeta'ed af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24316633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetuslapetus/pseuds/zetuslapetus
Summary: Beth goes to Vegas to celebrate her divorce and wakes up married with no memory of how.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 68
Kudos: 658





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just something that's been stuck in my head for a while - needed a break between my WIPs.  
> The rating may be overkill but better safe than sorry ;)  
> Enjoy.

She awakens with a shock, disoriented. Sunlight pours into the room forcing her to squint the moment her eyes open. A sharp pain shoots through her temple and she groans softly. Her mouth tastes as if something died in it. She tries to remember the night but all she recalls is dinner, and Annie buying the first round of shots. _Tequila_. 

Jesus.

She leans forward on her arm, gets an elbow underneath, and pushes up. Pain shoots through her head and a wave of nausea hits her. 

That’s when she hears it. A quiet groan behind her and then the bed shifts. 

That’s also about the time Beth realizes she’s completely naked. She grabs the thin sheet around her chest, pulls it up to her neck, and turns her body. Next to her, just as naked, is a man. He’s stretched out on his back, an arm thrown over his eyes, the sheet barely covering him. 

She panics.

She stammers, kicks her legs out, and stumbles off the bed. When she pulls the bedsheet with her it slides off of his body. She yelps.

His eyes flutter open, they’re brown and unfocused. 

She can’t help it, she looks down. His brown skin contrasts against the hotel sheets in a way that makes her mouth dry. 

“Oh my god,” she gasps, pulls the sheet up against her body, and turns away from him.

She dashes into the bathroom, kicks the door shut, and vomits into the toilet. When she’s done, she leans back on her heels and wipes at her mouth with the sheet. 

After a while of squatting her thighs begin to burn, then she realizes she aches, _everywhere_. 

She slips a hand between her thighs and groans, she’s still wet. 

_Fuck_.

He’d come in her.

When she catches herself in the mirror she gasps. Her mascaras smeared around her eyes, hair tangled. She looks _wrecked_.

On her chest is a large, red hickey. She rubs a gentle finger over it, remembering the feel of stubble against her skin. She shivers, quickly pulls up the sheet until her right thigh comes into view. There, on the inside is another one. Pink and fresh. 

The knock at the door startles her.

“You alright?” Comes a deep voice. 

“I’m fine,” she rasps, her voice gone. Damn tequila. 

She hears a noise outside the door, hears him moving around the room. Putting his clothes on, she hopes. 

She waits another moment until she can’t hear him anymore, then she pulls the sheet up and opens the door.

He’s sitting on the bed, he’d put his jeans on but he’s still topless. He’s resting his head in his hands, leaning forwards on his knees when he hears her. He looks up and she forgets how to breathe.

His eyes are red, mouth open as he stares at her. He looks just as miserable and hungover. His eyes drop to her chest, to the hickey he’d put there and her hand grips the sheet tighter. It’s when he stands that she realizes she’s absolutely _fucked_. 

He’s tall and lean. Her eyes fall to the large tattoo covering his neck and the necklace that hangs around it. The image of it hanging off of him pops into her brain then, and the way it’d dipped between her breasts as he’d pushed into her. 

“You sure you alright?” 

His voice snaps her back and she nods, silently.

She looks away from him, looks around the room - this is definitely her room, she knows that much, but she doesn’t see her phone or her clothes from last night.

“Do you remember - “ he begins to ask, then pauses. 

She looks back to him, shakes her head softly and that’s when she sees he’s holding something in his hand. A piece of paper. He must realize what she’s looking at because he brings his hand up and the paper with it. 

He takes a step closer, extends his hand, and lets her take the paper

“Neither do I.” He says.

She gasps, loudly. There, in black and white, from the Clark County State of Nevada is a marriage certificate with her name on it. 

“I take it you’re Elizabeth?” he says on an exhale. 

_Fuck_. 

Another wave of nausea hits her, she shoves the paper into his chest and runs to the bathroom. When her stomach is empty she throws some water on her face and stares up at herself.

 _Married_. The irony of it is the fact that she’d come to Vegas with her best friends to celebrate her divorce. Beth doesn’t know whether she wants to laugh or cry. Oh god, Annie will never let her live this down for as long as she’s alive.

  
When she comes back out into the room, a little ashamed at her own dramatics, she finds him standing by the window. He’s still shirtless and talking on his phone. He gives her a little nod when he sees her, it’s so very casual until his eyes slip down her body. The sheet is thin, translucent almost, and the direct sunlight doesn’t help. She feels her nipples tighten at his assessment and her toes curl against the shaggy carpet. 

He angles his body in her direction to give himself a better look, and she lets him. He licks his bottom lip before he responds to the person on the phone in short, clipped sentences. She doesn’t know how long she stands there, frozen like a statue under his gaze. She feels that familiar twist in her belly, a heat blooming deep inside of her. 

She forces herself to turn away then, she finds her phone and some clothes. She changes quickly, looks through her messages at the sink only to find three from Annie of eggplant emojis she’d sent at midnight. 

When she walks back out he’s off the phone, still standing in the same spot but facing the window this time. 

“Hi,” she says quietly. 

“Hello.” 

“I’m sorry for - “ she pauses, points to the bathroom, and laughs. 

He laughs, it lights up his face, reveals a row of perfect teeth. 

_Teeth he’d made that hickey with._

”Nah, I get it,” he says, then he takes a step closer, and hands her his phone. 

“We can annul, I’ll take care of it, just need to be able to reach you.” 

She nods, when she takes the phone from him she makes sure to not touch his skin. She keys her information in quickly and hands it back to him.

“Beth,” he says, his mouth frowns like it doesn’t sit well with him. “Rio,” he says and extends his hand to her. 

_Rio_. The paper had said Christopher, she’s pretty sure.

She takes his hand, it's warm, firm. He gives her a slow shake, once, then again. She’s staring, she knows, but his bottom lip is distracting. She thinks she remembers how it felt between her teeth and how much he’d liked that. 

Then he’s pulling his hand away and pocketing his phone. 

“I’ll see you, Elizabeth,” he says with another nod. 

He opens the door but doesn’t step out immediately. She can see why through the space between his legs. Strewn across the hallway just outside her door are his shirt and his jacket. 

He steps out into the hallway and the door shuts behind him.

Beth takes a few deep, steadying breaths, and then she calls Annie.

When neither Annie nor Ruby answers she showers, scrubs her skin and finds two more hickeys. One on the inside of her wrist and the other on the side of her breast. Every muscle in her body aches, so she lets the hot water soothe her.

She thinks back to the previous night, recalls getting dressed, drinking with the girls in this very room. She remembers dinner, she’d had lobster, and Ruby and Annie had both had steak. She remembers champagne and giggling over how cute and young their waiter was.

 _Young_ \- like Rio, she thinks.

She groans, lets her forehead rest on the cool tile, and turns the water temperature up. 

When she’s pruned she turns the shower off and the moment she steps into the cool air of the room she hears her phone ding - once, then again.

_Goooood morning ;)_

It’s Annie.

The phone dings a few more times, lighting up with inappropriate emojis of more eggplants, water drops, and other icons she can’t quite understand.

_We’re grabbing breakfast downstairs, hurry._

She dresses, lets her wet hair fall loose against her shoulders, and hurries downstairs.

Annie and Ruby are seated on the terrace by the most beautiful fountain she’d ever seen. They’re drinking mimosa and laughing. When Annie spots her, she shrieks. 

“There she is, Miss America!” Annie yells and Ruby pretends to shush her but laughs. 

Beth slides into a chair and grasps the first glass of water she sees. Her body sings at the first gulp of the cold liquid and by the time she’s done with it she’s out of breath.

“Sure, please, have my water,” Annie scoffs. Beth levels her with a look and Annie frowns in return. 

“What, gang-friend didn’t do it for you?” she asks, then she turns to Ruby and smacks her arm. “I told you we should have gone with the freakishly tall Swede.”

“Gang-friend?” Beth parrots back.

Annie shrugs.

“It was loud and we didn’t catch his name.”

“You let me go, _wasted_ , with a stranger whose name you didn’t even know,” Beth looks to Ruby, points to Annie before she speaks again, “I mean her I understand, but you?“

“First of all you weren’t wasted - “ Annie starts but Ruby interrupts her.

“You’re the one who invited us all back to yours for a nightcap,” Ruby emphasizes the last word with quotes, causing Annie to laugh as if it's an inside joke Beth isn’t privy to. “And then kicked _all_ of us out except for him,” Ruby finishes with a pointed look. 

“God, we were hoping he’d get that stick out of -” Annie says but Beth raises her hand, interrupting her.

“I’m married,” she snaps. 

Ruby makes a confused face and Annie frowns. They exchange a bewildered look between each other before turning back to Beth. 

“You’re _divorced_ , that’s why we’re here,” Annie says, then she turns to Ruby and whispers, “Can people get amnesia from drinking a lot?”

“No,” Beth says slowly as if she’s addressing a child. “I am married to Rio - which by the way is his name, not gang-friend.” There’s only silence then as both Annie and Ruby stare blankly back at her so she continues. “I remember _nothing_ from last night. I woke up this morning, naked, with _him_ next to me and a marriage certificate with both of our names,” she all but screeches the last part. 

Ruby’s jaw drops and a soft gasp escapes her.

Annie, on the other hand, _cackles_. It’s loud and so sudden that it makes Ruby jump. 

“Oh-my-god,” Annie laughs. Ruby stares, mouth still open. 

“It’s not funny,” Beth whines. 

“Wait, where is he right now? Did you leave him in bed?” Annie asks.

“No, he’s - “ Beth pauses, thinking. “I don’t know, he said we can annul and that he would take care of it - whatever that means, then he left,” she shrugs. “I’m going to be sick,” she adds.

That’s when Ruby wheezes and starts laughing. Beth groans and gasps when she remembers. 

“I need a Plan B.” 

Annie laughs. “Plan b? What’s plan a?”

Beth gives her an annoyed look, Annie takes a sip of her mimosa and shakes her head, genuinely confused.

“No, Annie, the medicine,” Beth says.

Ruby gasps.

“Oh my god, this just keeps getting better,” Annie laughs and finishes her mimosa.

“How was it?” Ruby whispers, leans in.

Beth closes her eyes and shakes her head - she can’t go there right now. She shivers, and Annie gives Ruby another smack on the arm.

“See, I told you, BDE.” 

Ruby rolls her eyes.

“What is BDE?” Beth asks, annoyed. 

“Big dick energy,” Annie answers with a _duh_ facial expression. 

Beth groans, and grabs Ruby’s water, downs it all in one go.

“Well she’s not denying it, “ Annie whispers out of the side of her mouth. 

Beth’s phone pings and she fishes it out of her purse. It’s from a number she doesn’t have saved - it’s him.

_Paperworks ready, need you to sign._

Jesus, he moves fast. 

“Is it him?” Ruby asks and Beth nods without a word.

She types out a response - _ok._

His response is instantaneous. 

_I’ll bring them this afternoon._

“Well, what’s he saying?” Annie prods. 

“The annulment paperwork’s ready,” Beth says, and Annie groans.

“Already? That’s no fun.”

Ruby scolds her, Annie shrugs and orders another mimosa.

An hour later Beth’s back in her room, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed with the largest bottle of water next to her. She rips into a paper bag and fishes out the pill. It’s tiny. She doesn’t think more about it, just pops it in and flushes it down with water. 

She plops back into bed and checks her phone - 2:30 PM, no messages. She wonders, briefly, where he is, what he’s doing at this very moment.

“Jesus, Beth, _stop_ _it_ ,” she says out loud, lets out a huff, and turns to her side. If she can just get a quick nap in maybe she can clear her mind and pull herself together. 

She sleeps, and she dreams, or maybe she remembers. She doesn’t know the difference anymore. 

She dreams of soft kisses on her neck, a tight arm around her waist. She dreams of _him_ , heavy at her back, bending her over the edge of the bed. He’d held her down, fisted a hand into her hair, and whispered filthy things into her ear as he’d fucked her.

A soft knock at the door pulls her out of her dream, she awakens with a hand inside of her underwear. At first, she thinks she’d imagined the knock but then it comes again. She jumps up, straightens her dress out, and pulls the door open.

It’s him.

He’s leaning on the door frame, large envelope in his hand. He gives her a small smile when he steps inside.

He’d showered, she knows because he smells good, familiar. The smell of him suddenly triggering a memory. Annie had dragged them to a club after dinner, she remembers. She’d bumped into him, physically nudged his shoulder when she’d slipped between him and a stranger to get the bartender’s attention. She remembers touching him.

_“Sorry,” she yells over the music and she’s boozed-up enough already to have no inhibition about reaching out and squeezing his arm in apology. She stutters a bit in her confidence when he doesn’t return a smile._

_“That’s alright,” he responds, she can't hear him but she’s close enough to read it on his lips. His mouth - god. She stares, then his lips are moving again, he’s speaking to her._

_“W-What?” She shakes her head and he smirks. She hadn’t heard a word of what he’d said to her, so she leans in closer and that’s when she smells him. He smells like leather and warmth._

_“I said, what are you drinking - Rose?”_

_She scoffs, eyes the amber liquor in his palm, and shakes her head._

_“Bourbon,” she says and the smirk grows into a full-fledged grin._

The sound of the envelope tearing snaps her out of her daydream. He pulls the papers out and hands them to her.

“I’ll have my lawyer file this week,” he says.

She blinks, jaw drops a little in surprise. When she looks at the papers her name is already typed up, two copies prepared. She wonders if he’s local - or loaded, to be able to prep the papers this quickly. 

“I sign and that’s it?” she asks. 

He nods, steps closer to her.

“My lawyer will send you a copy of the final petition.” 

Then it’s quiet, the only noise in the room the shuffling of papers in her hands. She scans the documents, pretends like she’s reading but the only thing she can focus on is how close he is. How large his hands are.

“I don’t have a pen,” she whispers, still staring at the papers.

He digs a hand into his pocket, pulls out a pen, and clicks the top before handing it to her. She looks at his hand, the fingers adorned with rings.

“Elizabeth,” he says, voice too deep. “Why can’t you look at me right now - what, you already married or something?” He says with a laugh and she looks up, eyes wide open. 

“Divorced.”

“Recently?”

“Last week,” she exhales.

“Damn, ma.”

She nods, grabs the pen out of his hand, and turns her back to him. She rests the papers on the armoire desk and bends at the waist. She hears a sharp intake of breath behind her and her nipples instantly pebble. She realizes what it must look like, her bent over in a dress, right in front of him. 

She ignores him and the throb between her legs and signs the first copy. She scans the pages, eyes searching for wherever else it may look like a signature is needed, reading words but not comprehending a single thought.

“Is that why you’re here?” He asks quietly and she’s well aware that he hasn’t moved from behind her. “Celebrating?” Then she feels the briefest stroke of his fingers against the outside of her bare thigh and her mind blanks. He grows bolder, splays his hand open, and palms more skin. She lets out a soft puff of air and her head dips forward. “Hmm?” he hums, waiting for her to answer.

The palm slides up, underneath the skirt and her thong. He steps closer, and she feels the material of his jeans against the back of her thighs. He hikes her dress up to her hip, exposing her ass to him, and he groans. 

“Been thinking about this all day,” he says, then he slides a palm across her lower belly and pulls her back into him. He’s hard - how is he already hard, _god_. She lets out a faint moan when he thrusts softly against her bottom, the movement pushes her into the desk. 

Her phone rings. It vibrates violently across the nightstand and it shatters the moment. He steps back as if she’d burned him and she quickly pulls her dress down. The phone vibrates off the nightstand and plops to the floor where it's quieted by the plush carpeting. 

She doesn’t look back, she doesn’t dare look at him. She signs the last page, forces her hand to stop shaking long enough to scribble her name out. When she’s done she shuffles the papers together haphazardly and turns to face him. 

His eyes are dark, pupils blown. She tries to step back, tries to put some space between them but the table’s at her back and the air is so thick. She extends the papers out and her knuckles touch his chest.

When he takes the papers from her he grazes her wrist, then her palm, and then he lets her go. 

“Goodbye, Elizabeth,” he says and takes a step back, then another. Then the door opens and he’s gone. She reaches for the minibar and pulls out two mini’s of whatever brown liquor she sees first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all - first, thank you for your kind words! They make me smile and keep me going! Second, sorry this update took forever and a day. This chapter is also super cheap (and short) but if you'll notice I did up the chapter count to three so more is coming. Finding a natural spot to break this massive chapter was also tough. Enjoy.

They’re booked on a midnight flight back home the following evening so they pack and book dinner reservations at a small restaurant inside the hotel. Annie pouts the entire dinner.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Annie whines. “I can’t believe you waited almost the last day to get married,” she chortles. 

“Oh my god,” Ruby gasps as if she’d forgotten. “You got married!”

Beth rolls her eyes, focuses on the menu in front of her, and on ignoring the two women laughing at her.

_ Married.  _

She’d laid in bed last night, in the pitch darkness of the early hours of the morning trying to remember anything. 

_ He’d bought her bourbon that night, she’d remembered that much. Top shelf stuff, too. She’d remember the way he’d looked down at her hand, still wrapped around his forearm. Remembered the way he’d looked up at her, one thick brow piqued in question.  _

_ She remembers he drank gin. _

_ “How can you drink that stuff?” She’d asked with a frown at the glass in his palm. “It tastes like - like,” she’d drifted off, eyes falling on his lips again. She knew what it tasted like - fresh pine, but all she could think about was if he’d taste like it too.  _

_ “And what does that bourbon taste like?” He’d asked, interrupting her daydream. He’d learned in closer to her, completely ignoring her drink on the bar. “Vanilla?” He murmured, his voice was too quiet, but he was close enough that she could hear him perfectly over the club noise. “Caramel?” Or maybe she’d imagined it all.  _

_ Then he’d paused, so close, and the sharp smell of pine and lime attacked her senses when he’d tipped his drink against his lips and sipped, eyes still on her.  _

Beth blinks, snaps back to the table. 

“Not for long,” she says offhandedly and decides to order nachos. 

They’re mid appetizer when Annie gasps, smacks her palm against the table, and begins coughing violently. Thinking she’s choking on her food, Beth immediately feels herself slip into mom-mode. 

“Annie!” Beth exclaims. 

Ruby reaches her first and pats her on the back, once, then again. Annie scrambles to swallow her food, pushes Ruby away and yells out.

“Gang-friend!” 

Ruby pauses with her arm still mid-air and looks up at Beth, confused.

“What - “

“Look,” Annie points to the front and takes a deep breath, “He’s here.”

_ No, no, no. _

Beth turns slowly. Her body hums to life the moment she sees him, and her spine straightens unconsciously. He’d just walked in, still standing by the hostess stand with another man behind him. He’s wearing all black, again, eyes dark and hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket.

_ Don’t come this way, please  _ she chants in her head. 

The hostess smiles at him, he gives her a curt nod but doesn’t return the smile. Then she’s turning, menus in hand and leading them in the direction of their table.

Beth’s head snaps back, Ruby’s already staring at her, eyes bulging. Beth feels herself freeze, unable to hear anything but the sound of blood rushing in her ears. 

_ Maybe if she sits still, if no one moves or looks their way -  _

“Hi!” Annie yells, one arm raised out. She leans out of her seat to grab their attention as if her screech doesn’t catch the attention of the two nearest tables. 

The hostess pauses, looks to Annie with a frown then turns back to Rio.

“Oh, are you meeting friends or do you need your own table?” The girl asks him, confused.

Beth stops breathing. 

_ She’s going to murder Annie. _

Annie beams, looks at the hostess then at Rio.

“We can scoot,” Annie says with a sweet smile and smacks Beth’s arm a little too hard, “Right, Bethie?”

Beth exhales shakily, looks up at him, and feels her insides quiver. He’s looking at her, eyes unreadable. He looks -  _ god _ \- he looks  _ good _ . She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Shit, she’s usually so good at this, years of practice of making up stories on the spot and now?  _ Nothing _ . 

“Nah,” he says smoothly, “We don’t wanna intrude.”

“Oh, don’t say that, we’re all friends,” Annie forces. “Right, Ruby?” She turns to Ruby and gives her a look when she realizes Beth is dead in the water. 

Ruby squeaks and the entire exchange flies over the hostess’ head because she’s placing extra silverware and menus at their table.

Rio sits across from Beth, and when the hostess returns with an extra chair, his friend settles in across from Annie.

“Mickey, right?” Annie squints in question at the friend. 

“Mick,” he nods.

Then she’s asking him about his tattoos and the conversation  _ flows _ .

Beth’s going to murder her and Ruby must know exactly what she’s thinking because she hasn’t stopped staring at Beth. Her eyes are saucers, mouth still open. 

Once Mick’s done explaining his face tattoos, he lifts a sleeve and exposes a large 313 tattoo on his forearm. Annie points to it and gasps.

“Born and raised in Detroit,” he says proudly, chest-puffing out a bit. 

“WHAT!” Annie exclaims with a wave of her hands. “We’re from Detroit, too.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Mick’s face lights up, then he turns to Rio, “You hear that boss?” 

_ Boss _ .

Beth’s stomach dips, she’s pretty sure she’s lost all feeling in her legs. 

Rio nods without a word, Beth can feel his stare. He doesn’t react to the news, and she wonders if he’d already known, somehow. 

Mick moves on to a portrait of his daughter on his other arm, and then they’re exchanging pictures of their kids. They’ve even hooked Ruby into pulling out her phone to show photos of her little ones. The three of them settle into a comfortable conversation that Beth can’t hear, let alone care about.

He’s there, so close, and still staring. His hands are folded on the table, and Beth can’t take her eyes off of his fingers. The contrast against the white table cloth reminds her of what he’d looked like in the morning light. 

_ Jesus _ .

“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to stare,” she says quietly. The words are out of her mouth before she knows what she’s saying. 

He chuckles, smiles at her as he had in the hotel room, teeth bared and bright. He pulls his hands off the table and rolls his shoulders. 

“So, what brings you to Vegas, ladies?” he asks, not taking his eyes off of Beth and interrupting whatever conversation the rest of the table was holding. 

Annie coughs into her drink, opens her mouth to respond but Beth speaks first.

“We’re celebrating.”

“Oh yeah? Anything special?” 

Beth’s eye twitches, everyone at the table stares at the exchange in silence.

“Our friendship.” She can see Ruby down her martini out of the corner of her vision. 

He hums, lifts a brow in response like he doesn’t believe her. He knows it's bullshit but he doesn’t call her on it. 

“And yourself, business or pleasure?” Beth asks, trying to pivot the conversation away from herself. 

He smiles again but this time it’s playful.

“Business, or so I thought.” 

She feels her face heat, suddenly warm all over. 

“What do you do?” Annie asks.

It takes him a moment to look away from Beth, to register that Annie’s speaking to him. 

“You ever been to Lucky’s?” He asks and Annie nods.

“Yeah, downtown by the museum?” 

“That’s my place,” he nods. 

She can hear Annie speaking then, Beth’s pretty sure she’s telling a story about the last time she was there. She’s not sure, her hands are shaking a little. 

_ He’s from Detroit.  _ The thought keeps running through her head on repeat. 

He’s smiling at whatever Annie’s telling him, nodding along with her story. Beth feels like she’s in the twilight zone. Mick orders a round of shots for the table. When the waitress brings them out Mick points to Beth and shakes his head.

“I don’t think I can afford to drink with you,” he says with a genuine smile. “Never seen a lady drink that much.”

“One of her many talents,” Annie says with an eye roll as she divvies up the shots. 

Beth doesn’t dare to make eye contact with Rio, she takes the shot from Annie and tosses it back before anyone can count down or toast. Annie scolds her.

Dinner is surprisingly nice. It takes another two bourbons for Beth to relax and join the conversation, but she does. She learns that Mick is an amateur tattoo artist and that he and Rio had grown up together. Beth spends the entire dinner avoiding Rio’s eyes, and his questions - which, luckily, he seems to be a man of few words and doesn’t ask any. 

He watches her though, she knows, she can feel it. The more she drinks the better she feels about that so she lets herself peek. Once, then again. She catches the way his throat bobs when he swallows whatever he’s drinking - gin, she knows. Catches the way the tattoo ripples. Catches the way his eyes sweep down her body when he doesn’t think she’s looking, or maybe he does.

Rio leaves the table to take a call before dinner is over, disappears somewhere Beth can’t see. Annie and Mick exchange phone numbers and he promises her a free tattoo when they’re back in Michigan. He offers Beth an invitation too but Annie interrupts to let him know Beth isn’t cool enough. Beth excuses herself to the restroom, scurries from the table before Ruby can join her. She doesn’t see him until she walks out of the restroom to find him leaning on the wall across from the door, hands in his pockets again. 

She watches him as he kicks off the wall, and steps up to her. Her heart pounds so sharply she can feel it beat inside her throat, and she actively resists the urge to run. When he’s close, he pulls his hands out of his pockets.

“Were you gonna leave without saying goodbye?” His voice is low and his face blank - it’s irritating, she thinks, how hard he is to read. He blinks slowly, bites at the corner of his lower lip. Then he’s brushing her hair back from her face and her eyes flutter shut for a moment. His hand is warm and his soft breathing lulls her into a soft sway.

She doesn’t even know this man -  _ who she happens to be married to right now _ . That thought wrecks her, for some reason, and she can’t fight the way every molecule in her body seems to ache for him. Its just sex, she tells herself, something she just hasn’t had enough of lately.

_ Sex you don’t even remember.  _

She can hear him hum in question, then she realizes he’s waiting for her to answer. She shakes her head in response. 

She doesn’t know why she does it, she doesn’t think, she just stretches up on her toes and kisses him. His response is instant. The hand against her face slides into her hair and he licks into her mouth. It’s soft and brief, and over before it starts. She pulls back almost immediately, takes a stuttering breath. It’s a goodbye kiss.

He opens his eyes, licks his lips like he’s still tasting her.

“Vanilla,” he says, and she takes a sharp breath. The bourbon.

He runs the pads of his fingers across her jaw and lets his arm drop. She steps away, puts some distance between their bodies, and allows herself to look at him one last time before she walks back to the table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading (and your patience) more is on the waaay :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In vodka veritas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheeew this update took forever - apologies. Here's the final installment.

The trip home is uneventful. Beth pretends to sleep the entire time, too wired to actually sleep but not ready to deal with the looks Ruby’s giving her. The thing about being alone with your thoughts is that you’re  _ alone _ with your thoughts. They play one show on repeat, and for Beth, it's four hours of that kiss on replay. 

Beth settles into divorced life unsurprisingly well in the following weeks. She redecorates, cleans out her closet, drinks - a lot. She finds a job at a bookstore she really enjoys, her first real one since high school. She and the girls celebrate her first paycheck, they drink way too much and she wakes up hungover and miserable. She lays around in her pajamas the entire day eating crackers and trying not to dry heave every ten minutes. She makes it off the couch to feed the kids and check the mail. 

Two packages arrive on that day. 

The first, a thick manilla envelope from a local attorney’s office.  _ Gretchen Zorada _ , it reads in thick, black print. She opens it quickly, her hands shake and she rips the envelope straight across the middle. She pulls out a thick stack of paperwork with a shaky hand and swallows the sudden pit in her throat. Beth knows what it is before she flips the cover page over. 

Annulment papers. 

Signed, sealed, finalized annulment papers. She flips to the last page and runs her fingers over the raised notarized seal across the judge’s stamp. She runs the pads of her fingers over her name, printed right above his. He’d filed, and gotten it annulled in two weeks. She lets out a soft breath, sits down at the kitchen island, and stares at the papers for some time. 

The second package is thinner than the first, plain, with a return address of Vegas. Curious, she quickly opens it. Inside is a colorful folder that reads  _ Chapel of the Flowers, Las Vegas, Nevada.  _ On the front is a large, corny, and terribly photoshopped photo of a church chapel with the mountains of Vegas in the background. Her heart thumps in her chest at the realization of what she’s holding.

When she opens the folder she gasps, audibly. Inside the folder is a full-sized, framed photo of  _ them _ \- from the waist up, kissing. She can see the empty chapel behind them, and the edge of what looks to be a bouquet of flowers between their bodies. She must be holding the flowers with one hand because the other is wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him against her. She can’t see her face too clearly but she can see his. His eyes are closed and he’s smiling into the kiss, mouth open against hers. 

_ Had she said something to make him laugh?  _

They look like a normal couple, nothing about the photo screams drunkards - other than the fact that she has no memory of the event.

She files the annulment papers and stuffs the photo into a drawer in the hallway. She ignores both for a week, or at least she tries to. It’s just that every single time she comes in and out of the house, every time she passes through the hallway she looks at  _ the drawer _ and she remembers. 

Then she does something stupid one night. She opens the drawer, stands in the hallway for a minute, folder in one hand and a bourbon in the other. 

_ Don’t do it. _

She chides herself mentally, almost listens, then she opens the folder. She opens the folder, stands in the foyer, and stares at the photo.

It’s just so  _ soft _ , she lets out a breath and takes a sip of her drink. 

_ He’s not even kissing you, not really. _

She rolls her eyes, takes another gulp of the liquor. He’s smiling, and she must be kissing the corner of his mouth because  _ she’s _ definitely kissing him. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed so softly that she’d missed it the first time. Her fingers are wrapped around his neck but she can’t see his hands in the photo.

A shiver rips through her at the thought of those hands.

He’d touched her at the bar - something she’d remembered a few nights ago laying in bed trying to shut her brain off. He’d made her try a sip of his gin at the bar, forced it on her, really.

_ “Come on, just one sip,” he’d laughed, and pushed his drink closer to her. “If you don’t like it then - “ he’d drifted off, eyes falling to her mouth.  _

_ “Then you buy me another drink,” she’d said. She’d tipped his glass back and sipped slowly.  _

_ The last time she’d had gin was high school, in the bathroom during prom. It was cheap and disgusting. The gin in his glass was crisp and certainly better quality but the memory of high school came rushing back and Beth could barely swallow the sip. _

_ She’d coughed, and immediately abandoned his gin with a furious shake of her head. Then she’d grabbed her bourbon and drank quickly to cover the taste of pine in her mouth. When she’d adequately burned the taste of gin out of her mouth she’d set her glass down and turned to him.  _

_ “Disgusting,” she’d whispered with a scowl and he’d laughed. It happened so quickly, he’d reached out and wiped at her bottom lip, catching the stray bourbon from her bottom lip. Then he’d brought the same finger to his mouth and sucked the liquor off of his finger, eyes never leaving hers. _

_ “Sound like I owe you a drink, then.” _

“Jesus,” she groans into the quiet house and slams the drawer shut. She clutches the photo and her bourbon and stomps upstairs. 

She stares at her closet for a while, shuffles through the dresses hanging. When she looks at the clock on the nightstand it reads 6:35 PM. She shakes her head, shoots the rest of her drink, and pulls out a dress. She stuffs the photo into her purse, grabs her keys, and takes another swig of the bourbon straight from the bottle before she leaves the house. 

She sits in her driveway for a while. 

_ What would you even say? Thanks for the annulment, here’s a photo for your keepsake? _

Her cheeks burn, and her belly twists in a way she hasn’t felt in a long time. She feels giddy,  _ young _ . She pulls the rearview mirror down and looks at herself. She’s flushed, hair a little wild, and disheveled. She looks at the photo peeking out of her purse and starts the car.

Lucky’s is lit up like the fourth of July. By the time she’s parked outside the warm coiling in her stomach has shifted to a full-blown steady thrum of panic. She palms her phone, dials Ruby but it goes straight to voicemail. Beth groans, pulls up Annie’s contact and curses before dialing.

“Yellow?” Annie picks up on the first ring. 

“Is that really how you answer the phone?” Beth grimaces into the phone, briefly distracted from her internal panic.

Annie huffs into the phone. Beth can hear the eye-roll over the phone. “Did you just call me to berate me?”

“No,” Beth exhales. A loud group of young girls walks by her car, laughing and squealing. 

“Where are you?” Annie asks curiously, “Are you drinking without me?”

“No,” Beth replies automatically, “I mean, yes, but - “ she pauses, groans. “I’m at Lucky’s.”

“Where?” Annie asks, not recognizing the name. Beth doesn’t blame her, it's been over two weeks since they’d come back.

“Lucky’s.”

“Why are you at - “ Annie begins and pauses mid-sentence as the realization of where Beth is dawned upon her. Beth doesn’t miss the quiet gasp. “ _ Why _ are you at Lucky’s, Beth?”

“I don’t know, because I’m an idiot,” Beth whines. 

She can hear Annie laugh quietly then whistle. “So it  _ was _ good?”

“No, I - “

“What are you wearing?” Annie interrupts her. She’s smiling, Beth can hear it in her voice. “Do your panties match your bra?” 

“Don’t say panties,” Beth hisses.

“God, you’re so old,” Annie groans into the mouthpiece. “You should take your panties off.” 

“Goodbye, Annie,” Beth responds with a huff, rolls her eyes and hangs up on a cackling Annie. She doesn’t even know why she’d called her or what she expected from her. 

She keeps her panties on and goes inside.

Lucky’s is packed, and buzzing with young people. Beth feels out of place, and way overdressed. The black dress seemed like a good idea an hour ago but now she feels like she’s coming from a funeral. 

She eyes the bar, squeezes her way through the crowd and finds an open stool. The bartender notices her almost immediately, and she’s thankful that she doesn’t have to yell for his attention. He leans across the bar, nods at her when he hears her order.

Beth shifts on the stool, clutches her purse in her lap, and looks around. Her heart pounds against her chest steadily. She’s itching for a drink, both, to calm her nerves and give her something to fiddle with. She shoots the bartender a tight smile when he slides the glass to her and takes a quick sip as her eyes continue to survey her surroundings. 

Annie texts her obnoxious eggplant emojis and a few others she can’t translate. She responds to her quickly and shoots the rest of her bourbon. 

“Another one?” The bartender’s back and pointing to the empty glass in front of her. He’s young, and smiley. 

When he returns with her refill he pauses, frowns briefly like he’s debating whether he wants to say something. Beth feels her stomach drop.

“Are you looking for someone?” He asks. When Beth doesn’t respond immediately, he elaborates. “You just keep looking around and I’ve never seen you here before,” he trails off and then frowns like maybe he’s unsure in his assessment. 

Beth begins to shake her head to dismiss his question but stops.  _ What the hell? _

“Actually, I am,” she grabs the bourbon with a nod, spins the glass between her fingers a few times. “I’m looking for Rio?” It comes out as a question rather than a statement.

His brown eyes light up in recognition. He nods once before he answers her. 

“He won’t be in tonight, but I can let him know you were looking for him?” he offers with a warm smile. 

Beth shakes her head and takes a sip of her drink.

“N-no, no need,” she says quickly, and takes another sip. He nods, looks down at her drink for a brief moment as if he’s taking a mental note to remember what she’s drinking. 

She finishes her drink, pays, and leaves. 

When she gets home that night she stuffs the photo back in the drawer and refuses to think about it again. She says a quiet thanks to the universe at the fact that he wasn’t there. Heat blooms in her cheeks when she thinks about what she would have said to him. 

She busies herself for the rest of the week, she goes to work, carpools the kids. She manages to forget about the photo until Annie calls a few days later to ask about Lucky’s. 

“Are you lying to me?” Annie mumbles into the phone. She’s moving around wherever she is, shuffling and all Beth can hear is the clatter of dishes in the background. 

“He wasn’t there, Annie,” Beth says, then she curses when she accidentally tips the bag of flour across the kitchen counter. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Muffins,” Beth groans and lets out a huff. “I have to go, I have another six dozen I need to bake before tomorrow - “ she pauses when the sound of the doorbell echoes through the house. “I have to go, Annie, I’ll call you later,” she says and doesn’t wait for Annie's response before hanging up. 

She drops the phone on the counter next to the flour and rubs her hands on the apron before she turns for the front door. She shuffles around the kitchen island, stumbles over the laundry in the hallway before she’s close enough to see a figure through the small window in the door. 

“Coming - “ she yells out, opens the door and lets out a soft noise that can only be classified as a squeak.

_ Rio _ . 

He’s here, standing at her front door, dressed all in black like  _ he’d _ just come from a funeral. 

She blinks, opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. She’d forgotten how imposing he is, how tall he is and how sharp his face is. How dark his eyes are. Everything she thought she remembered now seemed a duller version of the man standing in front of her.

A loud beeping from the kitchen snaps her back to reality - the oven timer. 

“My muffins,” she finally says. She’s wearing an apron and she’s probably covered in flour. Her hand snaps to her face and she rubs at her cheek self consciously. “I need to get the muffins - come in,” she waves him in and turns for the kitchen. 

She unties the apron and throws it off before she gets to the oven. When she pulls the muffins out, she deposits the tray on the kitchen island and gives him a small smile. 

“Bake sale,” she says quietly. She can’t stop staring at him. 

He nods slowly and when she rubs at her cheek again it catches his eye. She pushes the bangs out of her face and lets out a soft breath. She’s been baking for hours and can only imagine what a complete mess she must look like. 

Neither of them speak for a moment and the silence grows heavy. Her heart is pounding against her ribs and she has to remind herself to breathe. 

“I heard you came by the bar,” he finally says and her cheeks burn. Of course, he heard. “Marcus has baseball on Thursdays,” he adds. 

“Oh,” she says obtusely. 

_ Marcus is his son _ , she rattles off in her head - she remembers that much, he’s Emma’s age. 

“Did you get the papers?” He asks and takes a step closer. He touches the edge of the kitchen island with one hand and she has to force herself to not look down. 

She nods instead and then it’s quiet again. He tilts his head in question and she knows what he’s asking. 

_ Why were you at the bar?  _

“Elizabeth,” he prompts her, and she feels the heat from the oven licking at her back, warming her. Feels the heat in her cheeks burn and spread. 

“I wanted to show you something,” she says quietly. 

Suddenly she feels insecure about it all, the photo, seeking him out at his bar, him. Seeing him here, in her kitchen, it makes it all so real. 

He squints, briefly and she stutters.  _ God _ .  _ I wanted to show you something, _ she groans internally, realizing what that sounds like. The photo is in the drawer in the hallway. She steps around the kitchen island, mumbles to him that she’ll be right back, and escapes into the hallway. 

She takes a few deep, steadying breaths before she comes back into the kitchen with the folder. He’s standing in the same place, waiting. 

She hands him the folder without a word and watches for his reaction with bated breath. When he finally opens it, he doesn’t say anything. His mouth opens, bottom lip jutting out the smallest amount and she can hear him breathe in the quiet room. 

“I don’t remember this,” he says after a moment and looks up at her. 

“Neither do I,” she shakes her head. 

“I remember talking about it, I remember it was your idea,” he says with a small smile, and his eyes drop to the photo again. 

“What?” 

“Getting married,” he chuckles and looks up at her. 

She frowns, shakes her head as if she disagrees with something she doesn’t even remember. 

“It was,” he says with a deeper laugh and steps closer. “I remember the vodka, and you,” he says quietly.

_ They’d ended up on the floor of her hotel room, at the foot of the bed, surrounded by the little bottles of liquor from the mini-fridge. She’d kicked everyone out, everyone but him. _

_ She’d ended up on her back with an arm thrown over her eyes, laughing at the story she was trying to tell him. She couldn’t stop hiccuping. He’d draped half his body over hers, arm strewed across her middle, a knee between her legs. _

_ “The stupid inflatable pig was tied to the car - “ she said between loud laughs as she struggled to take deep breaths. “I drove it off the lot and ripped everything off the building,” she giggled. “He ran out of his office with his pants around his knees - “ she said and burst into another round of giggles. _

_ Rio leaned over her on his elbow, a dumb smile plastered across his face. He was quiet as he watched her, eyes glossy. _

_ “Who was she?” He asked and Beth slipped the arm off her eyes to look at him as the last of the giggles left her body.  _

_ “Amber,” she sighed, and hiccupped softly. “She was his twenty-one-year-old secretary.”  _

_ The mood shifted, Beth’s face dropping at the memory and Rio swallowed the lick of irritation in his throat, bursting through even with the heavy alcohol coursing through his blood. _

_ He pawed for the small bottle of clear liquid above her head and brought it back between their bodies. _

_ “I think this is the last bottle,” He leaned over her on his elbow and positioned the bottle over her mouth. “Open,” he said.  _

_ She blinked, briefly distracted by the liquor, and opened her mouth so he could pour a shot. He’d missed, it dribbled across her chin and down her neck. She’d squealed and he’d laughed, cursing quietly. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he’d said, not very convincingly. Then he’d leaned into her neck and sucked at the liquor pooled at the hollow of her throat.  _

_ When he’d soaked up all the alcohol off her skin, he kissed across her collar bone, then her chest.  _

_ She let out a soft moan and he took it as a sign to continue. She wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and squeezed.  _

_ “It’s been a while - “ she whispered and he paused. He kissed her chest once and pulled himself up to face her. _

_ “How long?” _

_ She blinked and looked away in embarrassment. He kissed her jaw and hummed against her skin. She smelled like warm vanilla.  _

_ “A few years,” she shrugged and closed her eyes at the feel of his lips. The feel of his facial hair scraping so softly against the skin of her jaw pulled a shiver out of her. “You know what they say, you stop having sex when you get married,” she whispered and hiccupped.  _

_ “Nah,“ he nibbled at the corner of her jaw and dipped his head back into her neck. “If I was married to you,” he chuckled quietly, like it was a private joke she wasn’t in on. “I’d fuck you every day - in the morning, before breakfast,” he said with a kiss to her neck. “In the kitchen, on the dishes,” he mumbled against her collarbone. “In the shower,” he groaned at the thought, like it was painful to think about.  _

_ She gasped softly, closed her eyes and let herself imagine. _

_ He’d slipped his other knee between her legs and settled his lower body completely on top of hers. He was hot and hard. _

_ “Yeah, I bet you look real good wet,” he nodded and kissed her on the mouth slowly.  _

_ “You’ve never been married,” she said against his lips. He’d hummed against her mouth, kissed down her neck and thrust against her slowly.  _

_ “I don’t believe that,” he’d grunted, still arguing. “To wake up next to this - “ he’d said with a soft bite to her shoulder. He’d squeezed her hips before sliding both palms up her sides to emphasize his point. “- I wouldn’t let you leave the bed.” _

_ She’d giggled at his hands, then hiccupped again. _

_ “I bet you - “ she’d started to say when he’d pulled up and out of her neck and looked up at her with an arched brow. _

_ “You’d bet me what, Elizabeth?” He’d asked with a pump of his hips against her own.  _

_ Her eyes were glossed over, from the liquor, from his body but she’d frowned and focused on her point. _

_ “I’d bet you - “ she let out a soft moan and continued - ”I bet you we’d stop having sex regularly in a month,” she said and arched up against him. _

_ He’d kissed her, sucked on her bottom lip softly.  _

_ “Yeah?”  _

_ She’d nodded at him with a stupid smile plastered on her face.  _

_ “How are you gonna prove it to me?” He’d asked and slipped a hand to her thigh.  _

_ She frowned, thinking about it then she’d laughed.  _

_ “I guess I’m going to have to marry you,” she’d said with a giggle, and a hiccup. _

Oh.

God.

Beth flushes as she recalls the hazy memory. She remembers some of it, remembers the way he’d looked at her when she’d said that. He hadn’t laughed, hadn’t thought it was funny. 

He’s looking at her again, still holding onto the photo.

“Did you come by to show me this?” He asks and steps closer. 

She nods. 

“That’s it?” He asks and she feels her stomach clench in an all too familiar way. There’s nowhere to run to, the hot stove behind her reminds her of that with every step he takes. 

She nods again. 

_ Liar. _

He’s so close, photo in hand but he hasn’t looked at it again. She wants to open her mouth and tell him how long she spent looking at it, studying their expressions, studying him. She wants to ask him if he remembers what he was laughing at in the photo, was it her, did she make him laugh?

Somehow, the only words she can form are about the bar.

“How did you know I came to the bar?” She blurts out.

He smiles, then he looks down at the photo again.

_ He almost doesn’t go in that day, almost drives past the bar and goes straight home, but there are cases of beer he’s gotta sign for before next week and his floor manager won't hesitate to call him in the middle of the night to remind him.  _

_ He shuffles through the late-night crowd, greets a few locals on his way. It doesn’t take him more than fifteen minutes before he’s locking his office and heading out. His youngest bartender, Tommy, waves him over as he walks out. _

_ “Boss!”  _

_ Rio gives him a nod, leans over the bar to get closer. _

_ “I forgot to tell you earlier - “ he says and pops the cap off of one bottle of beer then another, “There was a lady here, looking for you today.”  _

_ Rio groans. This hasn’t happened in a long time, not since he first got the bar. He learned early on - never pick up women in your own bar, and never bring women back to your bar. His mind reels and he thinks through the women he’s tangled with recently but all he can think of is Elizabeth.  _

_ Christ.  _

_ There hasn’t been anyone after her.  _

_ Tommy frowns at his reaction and deposits the beers on the bar.  _

_ “It wasn’t like that - “ Tommy shakes his head, turns to the customer in front of him and hands him the beer with a nod. Then he turns back to Rio. “She looked like a nice - “ he pauses and grimaces again like he’s having a hard time putting it into words. “Woman,” he finishes lamely and rolls his eyes at the face Rio gives him. _

_ “Have a good night, Tommy,” Rio taps the bar and turns away. Tommy’s still speaking when he walks away, but the only word Rio can make out is bourbon.  _

_ “What’d you say?” Rio snaps back and Tommy’s eyes bulge, the kid looks scared. _

_ “I didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just what she reminded me of -” he’s still babbling on and Rio has to tap the bar to get his attention. _

_ “I don’t care, Tommy,” Rio says then he nods at the kid to repeat his words. _

_ Tommy shifts, clearly uncomfortable, then he speaks. _

_ “I said she looked like Jessica Rabbit, down to the bourbon,” Tommy mumbles and Rio shakes his head. _

_ “Was she blonde?” Rio snaps. _

_ Tommy shrugs. _

_ “I would say more strawberry-blonde but sure,” he ponders.  _

_ Elizabeth.  _

_ At his bar, looking for him.  _

Beth scoffs, and Rio swallows his smile. 

“No offense, mama,” he smiles at her glare. 

“What else do you remember?” She asks quietly and his smile slips.

He hadn’t remembered much at first. He hadn’t begun to remember until he was back home, stuck in traffic on the crosstown in his car when he’d remember what she’d tasted like or how she’d moved under him. 

“I remember you drink bourbon,” he says and she frowns. That’s something she already knew. The back of her hand snaps to her forehead and she brushes the hair out of her face.

“I mean what do you remember about - “

“I know what you mean,” he interrupts her and steps closer. “I can’t drink bourbon anymore cause it tastes like you,” he says and Beth’s eyes bulge. “And I can’t keep thinking about what you taste like when I can’t taste you again.” 

Beth blinks, mouth dropping open at his words. She exhales and has to remind herself to inhale. 

“Oh,” she whispers. 

He places the photo on the counter, lines up the edge of it with the counter with quiet precision. Then he looks up at her again.

“So if that’s all you came for,” he says softly.

_ Oh god. _

She stops breathing and everything moves in slow motion.

“Elizabeth,” he says again, and he sounds pained. After a moment he licks his bottom lip quickly and squints, then he steps back. 

He’s leaving.

He says something she doesn’t register because she’s too busy trying to process his words, and him. Then he nods to the front door and begins to turn away. Beth panics and blurts out the only thing on her mind.

“Kiss me,” she exclaims and he stops mid-turn. “I don’t know how to do this, any of this but - “

She doesn’t finish her sentence because with two wide steps he’s in front of her and he’s kissing her. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers curling in the same way she’d seen in the photo and she kisses him back. It’s familiar but not enough that she knows the shape of his mouth already, or the path his hands will take to finally rest around her middle. 

When she pulls back to take a breath she pants for a moment before she speaks.

“I couldn’t stop staring at that photo,” she puffs and his hand slides into her hair.

“Yeah?” He asks against her mouth.

She nods, leans forwards and pushes into his kiss, stretches up on the tips of her toes to slate her mouth across his. 

“I thought maybe I’d remember,” she says between kisses, then she pulls back completely. “What else do you remember?” She asks again, eyes him suspiciously. “I think you remember more than I do.”

He laughs then like he did in the photo and Beth’s chest tightens.

Rio slips a finger out of her hair and rubs at her bottom lip, then he nods. 

“How about you let me take you to dinner and maybe I’ll tell you what I remember? How you accosted me at the bar,” he says with a smile and kisses her when she opens her mouth to protest.

“I remember that and I didn’t accost - “ she moans when he deepens the kiss and tugs her against himself. 

“Dinner,” he says, voice shifting, eyes growing dark. 

She doesn’t speak or fight it anymore, she nods and lets him kiss her for a while. After some time he pulls back, pushes her hair away before his hands slide back to her hips.

“Dinner first, then I’ll help you remember everything else,” he says and slides a palm to her bottom. 


End file.
